Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1887-01-22

black pony had been tied to the old red oak
in front Of the gate nearly every Sunday
evening and every now and then Wednes-
day evening would find him there.
Oh, how sweet is love! What barren
sahara of soul must inhabit the man
whose hearts deepest well-springs were
| never stirred by the angel touch of love. a
man forgets his follies when his silly say
ings are sanctified by the touch of love.
The sun rises in silver mist and sets in a
sea of gold. The untutored spirit grows
gentle, and the untutored touch is tender
when loves caresses time the heart beats.
Thus the love of this simple pair deepened
into the divinity of marriage. Drawn to-
gether by an irresistible magnetism, the two
channels sweetly stole beneath the myrtle
boughs and united in one deep and unfa-
thomable channel True, they knew of
ripples, eddies and counter currents, but as
well they knew whittier the one broad cur
rent must tend.
The skies were OF deep, deep blue, like
the unreasonable depths of the eve of an
innocent child, and the sun dropped down
toward the horizon with many good
smile on his rudy face. The tall pine
trees sighed softly, and their branches
stirred, and dreoping low, whispered ben
ediction. Birds whose summer songs were
hushed, broke forth afresh as the Young
man rode slowly along toward the home OF
his betrothed. The old wooden bridge was
reached, and the young man paused an in
slant to catch the low murmur of waters
as they rippled with q holy mirth. Out of
his reverie the young man was startled by
a clatter at the top of the hill beyond and
down the winding road cavalcade of
country lads came galloping to meet him.
That was one of their customs, and with
much noise and jollity they greeted the
groom.
In few minutes the column was form
ed, with the groom and his best man in
front, and it was "whoopl and away !"
As the breast of the hill was reached the
sun flashed forth a parting smile of glad
ness ana went down behind the tree-clad
ridges far away. A turn in the road, and
then a long avenue between walls of trees,
and right merrily clattered the hoof beats
as the happy party continued at hard
gallop. Suddenly a sharp turn brought
the horsemen in view of the venerable
homestead old and gray, where the vener-
able master, old and gray, had bred half a
dozen stalwart sons and several blooming
daughters, one of whom was now blushing
red as she slyly peeped from window to
see if her lover was there.
II was one Of their quaint old SUPER
SLtllOl5 that luS DIluC LlESt uOl see the
groom as be came down the road, and SO
the laughing bridesmaids pulled and
tugged at the poor. helpless bride until
they got her away from the window. In
the broad piazza were futtering skirts and
laughing faces, for maid and matron joined
with an equal zest in the merry-making.
One enjoyed the pleasure of a past scene so
sweet to her memory, another anticipated
a future scene so sweet to contemplate.
Rugged men with long boards and grizzled
locks stood about the gate to welcome the
young men, and all around and about were
faces; glad, eager faces; happy, hopeful
faces; grave and manly faces; faces with
motherly wrinkles; faces with the pink
and white of girlhood on their soft cheeks.
| can see the groom as he dismounts
with spring, puts his hands in his peck
cts, takes them out again put them in again,
changes his feet, scratches his head and
spits. All those knocking faces, those
joking faces, those sly and winking faces,
those droli, suggestive faces Inside the
gate he is walking with friend, the dear
old friend to whom he confded all his
troubles and trials of courtship, at his side.
Up the steps, across the piazza where black
eyes, blue and gray are gazing at him from
two solid walls of faces. Through the hall,
and then-shall we follow him?
She is there. He needs no plotting. In
stinctively he knows where she is. Beside
her he is seated. There are those cruel
bridesmaids and those inquisitive attend
ants, those awkward companions every
thing is embarrassing and-oh, if it was
not for-therel l like to have told it-if it
were not for her. he would like to be dead.
And the tender little heart so near him,
growing nearer and nearer as the golden
sun goes speeding through the hour-glass
so true, so tender, so loving. How it beats
Like the ticking of watch. Can you hear
it? She imagines you can hear it, and the
thought drives the warm blood upward,
and the cheek grows as red as the sunset
skies, and the snowy neck is bathed in dyes
as soft, as bright, as summer dawn.
= Beat on, happy heart. Flutter like some
wild bird toward your rightful nest, The
cage is waiting, and soon thou shalt find
thy home "All is ready" whispers mes
senger, and then there is much fixing, much
brushing in a shy way, and much smooth
ing out and much shutting OF feet, and
then the party start on that long and peril
Gus Journey. They are going to be married
under the old apple tree in the snowy white
ward. What need for witnesses Do not
the bright and solemn stars gaze softly
down from the distant depths of heaven,
beaming benisons on the happy fulfillment
OF guileless love- What need of brides-
maids Hard by is the vario-colored bed
of sweet chrysanthemums, holding high
their pretty heads with an admiring pride
and happy acquiescence.
1t is down the broad steps and half across
the yard, and under the old apple tree
stands good-faced man, whose heart is as
honest and true as his brow is broad and
brown. The twinkling light of candles and
lamps enlivens the scene, spreading kind
of glory on the golden head of the fair
Young bride. The shining tresses inter-
twined with chrysanthemums and late
blooming roses. Orange blossoms No;
no forced growth of the dollhouse. Every
thing is simple and natural, as it should
be. And now the sturdy groom feels a
tingling in his knees uufelt before, and
were it not for the reassuring clasp of soft
white hand he might stampede even now.
He gazes at the parson and wonders what
next. She gazes far beyond the preacher.
Facing the east, she looks far down to
where the dimly-outlined horizon marks
where sky and forest meet.
Not Moses. when his eyes were super
naturally heightened, gazing from the top
most crags of Pisgah, looked upon fairer
land of promise than she. Beyond the
horizon, stretching away into a blissful
land, where flowers of hope hang heavy
with the heart-distilled dews of love. A